An Ill Wind

We’re continuing the wind theme.

It’s not easy to see the likely weather in all directions from our Fanjeaux campsite. Our morning dawned quite bright and we decided to visit Lac de Lenclas, which is a modestly sized dammed lake nestling into a bend in La Rigole, the engineering marvel of a narrow canal that feeds water into the high point of the Canal du Midi. With both gently flowing water over a gravelly bottom and standing water with emergent vegetation, this has proved a happy hunting ground for odonata many times in the past.

As we drew closer the sky ahead of us progressively darkened rather alarmingly. The wind had switched direction. We were no longer in the grip of easterly Marin blowing in off the Mediterranean but of the northwesterly Tramontane. Clearly life was becoming unsettled.

I parked and we wandered. There were some Violet Dropwings (Trithemis annulata) zooming along the edge of the lake, not really posing for pictures, but little else. This was not going to hold attention for any length of time.

As we finished our walk around the lake and were returning to the car, with a few spots of rain falling a French lady approached us and muttered something about a village called Les Cassés. We explained that we didn’t know it but ever resourceful Francine found our map and the village on it. It was just a handful of kilometers from the lake. It seems this French lady was out walking for the day and her destination was Les Cassés. She was evidently concerned about the rain. What she actually wanted, we finally figured out, was a lift to Les Cassés ‘cos she wasn’t dressed for inclement weather. Well, OK, we gave her a ride “avec plaisir”. I can’t figure out why anyone would set out on a cross country walk without being equipped for some weather. It does sometimes rain in France you know, madam.

Francine had wanted to head for Sorèze and lunch but given the change of weather we skipped it and bought some Teilles Sètoise from a supermarket instead. A specialty of Sète, these are little pies filled with a seafood mixture in some tomato-based sauce. They make a pleasant effort-free lunch.

We’d also purchased a pintade [guinea fowl] and planned to have the breasts this evening. I foolishly cycled uphill into Fanjeaux to the local alimentation thinking a mushroom sauce would moisten them slightly and add interest. The darn shop was shut so my puffing and panting had all been in vain. Drat! Instead I made a sauce of sautéed shallots, which I did have, with a little rose wine and some of our Polish grainy mustard, and damn good it was too. I shall repeat it.

My new recipe will henceforth be known as Pintade des Brugues (this campsite being Camping des Brugues).